


Guiding Light

by Soledad



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soledad/pseuds/Soledad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene to Ep 1.04. After Merlin’s recovery, he and Arthur have a talk about guiding lights, disembodied voices and whether or not magic is truly evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guiding Light

In the morning after his miraculous recovery from the Mortaeus flower's poison, Merlin appeared in Arthur's chambers – bright and early, as promised. To his mild disappointment, the heroic Prince who had put his life at risk to save a lowly servant seemed to be gone. Arthur was back to his prattish self, irritable and irritating as only days with a long banquet lying before him could make him.

Merlin wisely decided that discretion was the better part of valour and kept his mouth shut like every sensible fellow when trying to placate an irascible master. He sat down in a corner with a rag and started polishing the brass buttons on Arthur's scarlet jacket. There were _lots_ of brass buttons on that jacket, so he could occupy himself nicely, without drawing Arthur's bad temper towards himself.

The tactic seemed to work. Although Arthur didn't speak to him all morning – well, the minor part of the morning that he didn't spend making his knights all sweaty and miserable on the training grounds – he also refrained from hurling verbal abuse (or, indeed, whatever items he could find within arm's reach) at Merlin for any reason. Or _without_ any reason, as was also known to happen in earlier times.

All in all, Merlin considered his tactic a success. The morning could be counted as a peaceful one – or what passed as peaceful in Camelot, between threatening wars, dangerous beasts and King Uther's never-ending zeal to eradicate any trace of magic that might still be hidden in his realm.

Still, something in Arthur's behaviour seemed… odd. It wasn't the silent treatment in itself – after all, the Prince was known to value a good sulk from time to time. He kept, however, giving Merlin strange looks whenever their eyes happened to meet. Looks full of discomfort and inner turmoil… even guilt, which was truly ridiculous, wasn't it? _Especially_ after having risked his life – and the King's infamous ire – just to save Merlin from a painful death. What could he have _possibly_ to feel guilty about?

After the midday meal – served by Merlin in Arthur's chambers and eaten by Arthur in stony silence – the Prince's mood finally seemed to shift.

"I need fresh air," he declared, clapping Merlin on the shoulder jovially. "Let's go out on to the walls where I can feel the wind on my face. I find that the air in the dungeon doesn't become me."

Merlin released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Mayhap he'd learn now what was wrong with Arthur. Or not. Despite his general openness, the Prince could be fairly secretive at times.

A short time later they were standing on the rotunda – the same one from which the members of the court had watched the departure of Bayard and his entourage the day before – looking down at the seemingly endless forests and fields that surrounded the castle. There were mounted messengers coming and going, peasants hurrying about their business… the same sight one would behold on any normal day.

And still, there was something in the air. Something Merlin couldn't quite define, but it was different from what the place usually felt like. An underlying tension mayhap, the foreboding of some profound change about to happen – not something that would necessarily be bad, but a change nonetheless. For better or for worse, he could not yet decide.

"Tell me about it," he finally said, to break the tension that was growing harder to bear by the minute. "Tell me what happened to you while you sought for the Mortaeus flower."

Arthur gave him one of those arrogantly amused looks that had justifiably earned him the epithet _royal prat_.

"Who says anything happened to me?" he asked dismissively.

But Merlin wouldn't let him revert to their usual exchange of friendly jabs and half-serious insults.

"You have changed," he said slowly, "and for some reason, it seems to frighten you. You aren't one who would be easily frightened, so it cannot be the beast you've fought and killed. So… what _was_ it?"

"'Tis not your business," Arthur replied, stiffening in annoyance. He didn't like being pressed for answers. Not even by Merlin. _Especially_ not by Merlin – which was the reason why Merlin did it.

"Mayhap it isn't," Merlin allowed amiably, "but I'm… nosy, as you often say. And you know I won't stop pestering you about it until you tell me. So why not spare us both the sweat and tell me right away?"

At that, Arthur laughed – an honest, full-belly laugh, the first one Merlin had heard from him since they'd fought the afanc together.

"You're so right," he said. "You _are_ a pest. I should send you to the stocks for being such a bother."

"You can always do so afterwards," Merlin offered, quite sure that Arthur wouldn't do so, not _this_ time. "But first tell me what you met in the Forest of Balor."

"Not what… _whom_ ," Arthur replied, giving up pretending that nothing was bothering him. "A woman… young, frightened, beautiful… or so it seemed. She knew who I was, and she knew I was looking for a flower. She even offered to lead me to the caves where it grew."

"And you believed her," Merlin said.

"And I believed her," Arthur nodded. "She pretended to be a maid who'd fled from her abusive master, and she played her part well. So sweet, so innocent, so much in need of protection… and so very false. I trusted her… until she led me into a deadly trap and left me to die. I was a gullible fool."

"Don't feel so bad about that," Merlin said. "She fooled me, too. I believe she was the false maid – the one who named herself Cara – who persuaded me that Bayard would want to poison you."

"Father says she's an evil sorceress," Arthur said thoughtfully.

Merlin shrugged. "Your father sees evil sorcery at work in every shadowy corner. This time, though, he might even be right. Gaius says the poison of the Mortaeus was made more potent by enchantment."

"I know," Arthur said. "He told Father the same thing. But why frame Bayard? In fact, why try to poison me in the first place? She could have killed me in the forest, or in the caves, a dozen times – yet she chose not to. She said it wasn't my destiny to die at her hand. So why the poison, just a day before?"

Merlin shivered involuntarily. The word _destiny_ alone was enough to make his skin crawl these days.

"Mayhap she never did want to kill _you_ ," he answered tentatively, not wanting to tell the Prince too much but wanting to put his mind at ease. "Perhaps she was after _me_ , all the time. She must have known I'd be forced to drink the wine to prove the truth of my accusations."

Arthur gave him that amusedly condescending look again. The one that made Merlin wish to wring his neck. Slowly. Despite everything that had happened lately – and his _destiny_ be damned.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin, why would anyone wish to kill _you_? Aside from me, of course, and I've shown admirable self-restraint in that matter, haven't I?"

Such belittling of his importance hurt, and Merlin berated himself for his hurt feelings. He was _supposed_ to lie low, to appear as common as dirt, wasn't he? God knew he did a lousy enough job of it. He should have been thankful that Arthur, albeit unknowingly, did his best to keep his cover intact.

It still hurt, though.

"Mayhap she thought it would be easier to send you into harm's way without me around," he finally said – and regretted his words as soon as they were spoken. They had been badly chosen… very foolishly. _I really ought to learn to think first – and keep quiet second_ , he thought sourly. He had the bad feeling that it wouldn't happen too soon, though.

Surprisingly enough, Arthur accepted his answer with a single nod, neither questioning nor ridiculing him this time. They sat there in companionable silence for a while, watching the busy life of Camelot unfolding before their eyes.

"So, how did you escape her?" Merlin finally asked.

He did have his inklings – Gaius had told him about his actions while lying fevered and out of his mind – but wanted, no, _needed_ to know how much Arthur had figured out.

"I'm not sure," Arthur admitted. "I was alone in the caves, hanging on one hand above the precipice, about to be eaten by a herd of obscenely large and hairy spiders… and then it happened."

" _What_ happened?" Merlin wished he could shake the Prince to make him talk faster.

"A light," Arthur said in a low voice, almost a whisper. "Someone, from very, very far away, said that it was too dark; and then a ball of blue-white light appeared to guide me the way out of that place."

"A… ball of light," Merlin repeated blandly, remembering what Gaius had seen in his hand while his fever had been peaking. _Oh God, if Arthur knew…_ "Sounds dangerously like magic to me."

"Perchance it was," Arthur agreed. "But whoever sent it, they certainly meant no harm. They knew I was in trouble and wanted to help. Otherwise I wouldn't be here now – and neither would you."

"True enough," Merlin said. "But aren't all those who practise magic supposed to be evil? To despise and seek to destroy goodness wherever they find it?"

Arthur shrugged. "That is what my father says, yeah. He says to know the heart of _one_ sorcerer is to know them all."

_How predictable_ , Merlin thought, but he was sensible enough to keep that thought to himself.

"And what do _you_ think?" he asked instead.

Arthur shrugged again. "I don't know what to think. I truly do not. Had you asked me just a week ago, I'd have said that Father was right… and believed it with all my heart. But now… what happened in that cave… it turned my whole world upside down."

"In what way?" Merlin asked, trying to make himself believe that he was _not_ trembling inside.

"There's no way that guiding light came out of nowhere on its own," Arthur replied slowly. "Not without someone – a _very_ powerful someone I'd say – sending it. And how could someone send a guiding light to a far-away place without the use of magic? 'Tis just not possible."

"Mayhap not," Merlin allowed carefully. "And yet whoever sent it, they clearly meant no harm."

"No," Arthur agreed. "They _saved_ me – and by doing so, they saved _you_ , too."

"For which I shall be grateful to the end of my days," Merlin said, albeit thinking that to thank _himself_ was a bit ridiculous. Whatever he'd done while burning up with fever – and he still wasn't entirely sure _what_ it had been – he'd done it for _Arthur_. That much was clear from Gaius' telling. "So, what does this tell us about magic?"

"I… I just don't know," Arthur said with a sigh. Then he shot Merlin a queer look. "You know, now that I think about it, that voice… the one that _bespoke_ me afar, urging me to climb upwards, to follow the light… it sounded remarkably like yours."

Merlin shook his head, laughing, although he could feel cold fear running down his spine. "That's highly unlikely. According to Gwen, I was delirious at that time, mumbling gibberish. She says none of my words made any sense."

"Your words don't make any sense when you _aren't_ delirious, either," Arthur retorted. "I'm wondering sometimes what the fair Guinevere could possibly see in you."

"Nothing!" Merlin protested, although he should have been happy that Arthur's inquisitive thoughts had found a new, less dangerous topic to focus on. "We're just friends!"

" _Just friends_ don't kiss each other passionately when one of them recovers from a malady," Arthur pointed out, still with that strange gleam in his eyes.

Merlin threw his hands above his head in frustration. "Oh, come on, Arthur, it wasn't just your everyday malady, and you know that! I was at death's door, remember? She was _relieved_ , that's all."

"But you liked it, didn't you?" Arthur asked, twinkling.

Merlin rolled his eyes in exasperation. "No, I loathed it, as I wanted to kiss _you_ instead!" he snapped. " _Of course_ I liked it, you daft royal prat; she's pretty and sweet and all kinds of nice things a girl can be. But it still means nothing. We. Are. Just. Friends."

He glared at the Prince in righteous indignation for, truly, besmirching Gwen's good name for a silly jest was below even Arthur's sometimes juvenile sense of humour. Then he realised that for some reason all colour had left Arthur's face all of a sudden.

"Arthur, are you feeling well?" he asked, his voice softening in concern. "You've become deathly pale in a wink of an eye!"

"Must have been the thought of being kissed by you," Arthur retorted with a splendid display of his usual, well-practised arrogance… and yet it seemed lacking something this time. "Concerning Gwen, though… perhaps you should reconsider. Other women only seem to get you in awful trouble; like that Cara you appeared to be so sweet on."

"She was pretty enough for a princess," Merlin declared.

"Yeah, and she was an evil sorceress, too, trying to murder you… or me… or both of us, and to trick us into war with Mercia again," Arthur riposted.

"I didn't know _that_." Merlin was truly annoyed now. Trust Arthur to ruin the memory of something sweet and beautiful… not of Cara as she truly was but as she had seemed to be: someone pretty and kind and refined, with an interest for him.

"You didn't know her or what her intentions were," Arthur pointed out mercilessly, "and you listened to her whispers and nearly got yourself killed, just because she made doe-eyes at you."

"She _did_ seem sincerely concerned," Merlin said defensively. "Besides, I couldn't take the risk that she might be right."

That silenced Arthur, and he was quiet for a while. So quiet that Merlin became concerned for a moment that he might have said something wrong… or revealed too much. He had to admit that Gaius was right; he truly needed to learn how to be more subtle… and a great deal more careful.

"'Tis strange," the Prince said after quite a while of mute introspection, "how much my life seems to have changed since you came to Camelot. There appears to be more danger around me now; but there is also you, saving my life again and again, putting your life at risk for me. Why are you doing this? Why do you stay here? Your village isn't even under Father's rule…"

_Because an enigmatic talking dragon told me that it was my destiny_ , Merlin wanted to say – if only to see that stupid, surprised expression on Arthur's boyish face. He had to admit that he just _loved_ to render the Prince of Camelot speechless with bewilderment.

But saying it out loud would have been a grave mistake. Had it come out that he was talking to the Great Dragon from time to time – that indeed he was capable of hearing the call of the magical beast with his mind – he might have ended up in chains, accompanying the Dragon in the caves… if he was _very_ fortunate and King Uther felt generous.

"Because one day your father will be dead," he answered instead, "and Camelot will need a King."

The answer seemed to surprise the Prince – although for what reason, Merlin could not even guess. He'd only told the simple truth everyone knew, after all.

"And you truly believe Camelot would like a King like me?" Arthur asked in a tone that was leagues away from his usual, unshakable self-confidence. Indeed, he sounded suspiciously like an uncertain young boy who'd been entrusted with a task too difficult for him.

Merlin smiled. He liked Arthur like this; it gave him hope that the Prince wasn't a lost cause, after all.

"I believe Camelot would like the King you will become one day," he answered.

~The End~


End file.
